Alternate
by DeceptiveSoftness
Summary: -What if, instead of Flora, it was Luke who fell? What if Layton didn't catch him?
1. Fall and Break

Chapter One: Fall and Break.

**By DeceptiveSoftness [**_Softie_**]**

He didn't think that he'd ever run as much in his entire life as he had the past few days here in St Mystere. First he had been chased around an abandoned amusement park by a demonic Ferris Wheel (_It had to be possessed, there was no other way it could have followed them with such_ _unerring accuracy._) and now he was running for his life down a giant, spooky tower as the building collapsed around him.

His legs ached fiercely, the muscles protesting at the punishing speed they were forced to work at, but he quickened his pace further and pushed himself to make it outside. His legs were shorter than the Professors and Floras so he was determined to keep up no matter what. His arms were wind milling wildly and his satchel felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as he sprinted down the steps but it didn't matter because he was spurred on by adrenaline and fear and the weight of his bag was nothing compared to the thought of being crushed alive.

Luke had an extremely active imagination, it was one of the main reasons he was so good at solving puzzles, but right now it was more of a hindrance than a help as he envisioned the behemoth of a tower crumbling with them still inside it and sending them all plummeting to their deaths. Almost against his will a riddle flitted across his mind distracting him for a moment.

"_What falls but doesn't break? And what breaks but doesn't fall."_

It was an old one and painfully simple so the answer wasn't hard to find but the familiar process of going through the motions of solving a puzzle calmed him somewhat and brought his mind away from the fact that he could very well die here.

"Night and day." he murmured the answer under his breath as he rounded the corner and started down another flight of stairs. Luke paused for a moment to glance over his shoulder at the Professor ad Flora who where hot on his heels and the sight of the two of them determinedly hurrying down the steps sent a lance of courage through his own heart and he resumed running with renewed vigour.

Of course they were going to make it, the tower might be freakishly tall but they were moving fast and had to be at least half way down by now. His sense of direction was getting skewed by the never ending monotony of grey brick and dull wood that made up the winding staircase but it seemed like they had been running forever so they _must_ be nearing the exit. They had to be.

Suddenly a screeching, groaning noise sounded from above him and Luke didn't have the time to suck in a breath to yell as a large piece of rubble crashed through the staircase on front of him. He couldn't stop, his momentum drove him forward over the gaping chasm, but for a moment he thought that he was going to make it as his feet glanced off the falling steps and gave him the push he needed to grab onto a wooden beam that stuck out from what was left of the smashed stairs at an odd angle.

The beam creaked sickeningly from his weight and he could barely hear the Professor's frantic yell over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears. The wood wasn't smooth and splinters dug painfully into his palms, staining the dirty beam red beneath his hands and his arms shook from the strain.

"Professor!" he cried in relief as he saw a familiar top hat appear above him along with an equally familiar face creased with worry. Layton reached down a hand but the gap was too wide and he was too far away for Luke to grab onto even if he extended his own hand. The beam gave a frightening lurch and began to splinter slowly in the middle, breaking away from the rest of the stairwell.

Luke let out a terrified sound and strained his free arm upwards to try reach Layton's. He swung precariously on the beam for a moment before he managed to get one leg up onto the wood and lever himself into a kneeling position. From here he could almost touch the Professor's outstretched hand and the man gave him an encouraging smile as he leaned over the chasm to try close the distance faster.

"That's it Luke, just a little bit further." the Professor said with his own unique brand of calm and confidence in the face of danger that somehow made Luke feel secure even as he dangled from a fragile wooden beam suspended over endless nothingness. He only had to stretch just a tiny bit further and he would be able to make it. Just a little bit further. Just a little bit and he would be safe.

Luke gave him a wobbly smile as he his fingers brushed the tips of Layton's before the wooden beam beneath him shuddered violently and then broke in half. It seemed like time had stopped for a split second before he was wrenched away from the Professor and the man's calm expression twisted into something desperate as he flung himself forward, almost falling himself, in a futile attempt to grab Luke's outstretched arm.

Luke's face was ashen with pure shock and his heart thumped unsteadily in his chest as he wondered why the Professor was getting so far away. The wind whipped his cheeks and pulled at his clothes and it felt as though his stomach was being pulled in the opposite direction. Lanterns flashed an eerie green in his peripheral vision as the sound of Floras distant scream filled his ears. He was falling. Comprehension hit him like a battering ram and Luke barely managed to choke out a mangled, helpless cry because the air was being stolen from his lungs as soon as he breathed in.

His decent was brought to an abrupt and painful halt as he crashed through something, he couldn't tell what it was, and slammed into something else before being thrown to the floor like a discarded rag doll. A wet, hacking sound filled the room and it took Luke a fuzzy minute to realise that he was the one making the noise. The taste of copper filled his mouth and blood bubbled past his lips to drip onto the dusty floor beneath him. He hurt everywhere and the sheer amount of pain was bewildering.

He blinked in incomprehension at an arm which was flung out on front of him. It couldn't be _his_ arm because he couldn't feel it. It was bent at an unnatural angle and most of it was trapped beneath some fallen debris and he couldn't so much as make the fingers twitch. So, obviously, it wasn't his hand.

Satisfied that he'd cleared that up Luke's gaze slowly drifted away from the strange arm and landed on a crumpled blue object that sat around a metre away. His thoughts were becoming agonizingly slow and it took him another minute of blinking to realize that the object was a hat. It was a nice hat he supposed and it was a pity that the soft blue fabric was splattered with blood. Perhaps he'd get himself one just like it when he...when he...

He blinked slowly, his eyes took a while to re-open, and whimpered quietly at the fire that lanced painfully up and down his chest. His heartbeat was loud and erratic in his ears and his eyes were oh so _heavy_. Every thought was like pulling teeth and every breath sent spikes of red hot flames through his chest and he wanted to cry because everything, oh _everything_, hurt.

Black spots began to fill up his vision and the smell of copper and machine oil filled his nose, sharp and pungent. The sound of a door creaking open and startled, whispered curses were faint as though they had come from far away. Luke didn't bother to open his eyes as he felt someone kneel at his side.

_(Open his eyes? When had he closed them? It was dark and cold and oh oh oh oh oh _ god_ there was pain) _

He was numb to the press of frantic fingers against his wrist but the agony roared anew as he was pulled urgently into someone's arms and the fire in his chest was too much to bear as it burned his heart to ash and filled his lungs with smoke. The dark spots bloomed into sweet, black flowers that took up his vision and Luke let out a pathetic moan as he felt a pressure building behind his eyes.

The temptation of sleep was a powerful thing that dulled the edges of the inferno that threatened to erase his entire being and soothed the terror in his mind. Luke felt himself being lulled into slumbers dark embrace even as a gruff voice ordered him to stay awake. He didn't want to. Awake was where the pain was he was too frightened and too confused and too tired to do anything to fight off sleeps clutches.

He couldn't find his eyes any more. He couldn't open them even if he wanted to. His body was a dead thing outside of his control. His mind was a jangled mess and he was swiftly falling under the comforting darkness of oblivion. Compared to the pain that wrecked his body, the cool nothing was a blessing and Luke gratefully succumbed to unconsciousness.

**A/N:** Um... please don't hurt me?

I adore Luke and writing this is _killing_ me (Although I _do_ like writing angst and pain...) but it's necessary for the plot. It really is!

Personally I blame Layton and his catlike reflexes for this one. I just remember playing PL and the Curious Village and being awed and a little sceptical of how quickly he caught Flora when she fell. Then I got to thinking about what would have happened if he didn't catch her but I don't really like Flora much (I don't ** dis**like her either) so I wondered what would happen if someone I _did_ like fell.

Naturally I ended up imagining poor, adorable, English little Luke plummeting to his death. But that made me cry a little so I imagined him falling, _surviving,_ and loosing his memory and, thus, this story was born!

If you liked it then please ** review** and heck, if you _didn't_ like it then **review** anyway and tell me why you thought it sucked. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

-** Softie.**


	2. Escape and Abduction

Chapter Two: Escape and Abduction.

**By DeceptiveSoftness [** Softie** ]**

Bruno cursed again when the lad exhaled slowly in something akin to a death rattle and went limp in his arms. This wasn't something he could fix, this wasn't something he could mend and patch back together because people, living people, weren't his area of expertise.

Oh give him a machine. Give him a wrench and some screws and a hard drive and he could make miracles. Give him wires and chips and bolts and he could create masterpieces. He could build and fix and maintain cool steel and whirring mechanics. But people, they were the real mystery.

Bruno let out a frustrated sigh as the tower gave an ominous grumble and some debris floated morosely down from the broken ceiling. He looked up at the jagged hole in the plaster and winced at the blood splattered across the wood and steel alike. The poor boy had fallen from god knows how high to here. It was a wonder he was still alive.

Bruno's lips twisted into a grimace when he looked down at the broken child in his arms. He could barely even begin to categorize his wounds, the most obvious of which were his broken arm. The boy's clothes were filthy with dust and patches of blood that grew steadily with each passing moment. Even if he had survived the fall Bruno doubted he would last much longer.

From the sound of the boys gurgling, shallow breaths he'd probably broken a rib that had, in turn, pierced his lungs and they just didn't have the facilities in the village to deal with such injuries. What use did a village of robots have for a hospital? Little Flora was as lovely and as delicate as her late mother and hardly ever left her house on top of the tower so it wasn't like she needed advanced medical attention. It wasn't like any of the residents of St Mystere would so much as let the wind touch her too harshly. Flora was never to need it so it hadn't existed.

Thinking of Flora sent a small pang of worry though the elderly mechanic. Before he had felt like he could trust the clever Professor who'd unknowingly fought his way to become the protector of the greatest treasure in St Mystere. Before he'd had no doubts that the man would be able to take care of Flora or that he'd protect her with all he had but now...

Now there was a living, breathing contradiction lying limp in his arms. How could he expect the Professor to keep Flora safe when he hadn't even been able to protect his own apprentice. What if it had of been Flora that had plummeted to her death? Slight, delicate Flora who's voice barely raised above a whisper. Tiny, brave Flora who'd never so much as hurt a fly. What if it had of been her that had fell.

Bruno cursed again as the tower started to shake and then hurried out the door with the unconscious boy in his arms. Just across from the door was what Bruno liked to call his 'Emergency Exit'. When he'd first designed the tower he'd had untold amount of space to work with. Each floor had but one puzzle in it and all he had to do was make sure that the floors were only traversable once you completed the puzzles. He'd basically been given the rest of the tower, except for Floras house on top, to do with what he wished.

He had been like the proverbial child in a candy store and he'd made a whole bunch of stairways that led to no where, rooms without doors and great spiralling machines that had no other purpose except to look weird.

His favourite creation though had to be the window that opened into a vent that if followed would turn into a slide along the outside of the building that deposited the slider outside safe and sound at ground level. For a minute moment Bruno questioned the wisdom of sliding down the side of a crumbling building with a dying boy in his lap but when the tower gave yet another warning shake he was left with no choice.

He swiftly kicked open the window and climbed in the vent backwards, pulling the boy in after him so that he could drag him gently towards the slide. There really wasn't a lot of room in the vent and the slide had only been built to be used by one person at a time but desperate times called for desperate measures. When Bruno reached the dip in the metal and smelled the new freshness of the air he knew he'd reached the top of the slide.

He adjusted the lad in his arms so that the boy was cushioned against his chest before kicking off backwards and shooting off down the oil slicked metal. He was getting far, _far_ too old for this, Bruno mused as he fought to stay on the slide and not slip off the edge. It had really been built for one person to use at a time and the added weight of the boy was making it hard for Bruno to manoeuvre about on the slide without skidding to his death.

He glances above him and then his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates because, good _god_, there above him, _flying_ above him on some ridiculous looking contraption, is that damned Professor and Flora. Bruno feels a bit like he's flying himself, except backwards and down instead of up, so he entirely sympathises with the slightly nauseous, slightly fearful look on Flora's face.

It's the look on Layton's face that makes him pause. He's steering the strange flying thing and his eyes are locked on the giant purple metal machine floating in the air. Bruno shudders lightly at the look in those eyes and is suddenly very grateful that he is not in the man in the purple ships shoes.

From what he knew of the Professor, and he knew a lot considering he'd been stalking him and his apprentice ever since they'd stepped foot in the village, he was a clever, polite and gentle man. Comparing the mild mannered Professor he knew to the steely eyed man flying above him was like trying to compare the day and the night.

Bruno realized with a start that the man didn't realise his apprentice had survived the fall. He thought the boy was dead. Rage didn't suit the Professor and neither did grief but both were painting their way across his face, twisting kindly features until he was almost unrecognisable. Briefly Bruno wanted to yell, to bring the poor man's attention down to him so he could see that his boy was alive, hurt, but very much alive.

He couldn't though, because the slide went faster than his thoughts and before he knew it Bruno had reached the end of the metal and his rear hit dry pavement instead. He really was getting too old for this and the impact jarred him more than he had expected but luckily he managed to keep his hold on the boy so they both ended up sprawled gracelessly on the pavement outside the tower.

The technician lay there winded for a moment before inhaling and slowly sitting upright. His spine ached and his head spun from the impact but he couldn't stay here. Just because they were out of the tower didn't mean they were out of danger. Bruno huffed out a sigh before gently hefting the boy back up into his arms, tactfully choosing to ignore the way the lad coughed wetly, and setting off down the winding paths of St Mystere.

He'd barely hobbled more than a street away when the tower behind him gave an almighty groan and then started to crumble in on itself. The falling building was mirrored in Bruno's eyes as he watched his masterpiece shudder to the ground in a choking cloud of dust and debris. The wall of dust was thick and oppressive and Bruno coughed with every breath he drew in. He wasn't going to be able to continue much further with the boy in his arms.

Bruno shuffled wearily forward until he came to a small alcove in the wall of the street. A closed shop and a small stone house on either side of it had shielded the alcove from most of the dust and it was as good a place as any to leave the boy so that he could go and get some help. He tried to remember if there were any robots he'd programmed with medical training and cursed fiercely when he couldn't come up with any names.

The technician softly placed the boy in the alcove and shrugged out of his coat so that he could create a make-shift blanket for the child until he came back. The weathered, brown material would also act as a flag of sorts that would allow him to find the boy once he'd found someone to help.

There had to be at least one and if none of his precious creations had any medical programmes installed then the good Professor himself would just have to take care of it. He had a car, even if it _was_ a strange looking thing, and the nearest town wasn't _too_ far away. He would be able to make it if he hurried.

Bruno kept going forward, half blinded by the dust, and soon found himself in a huge group of people, well, robots _really_ but that was just a technicality. In the middle of the crowed, pale faced and deathly still, was Flora and Bruno's heart skipped a frightened beat.

He knew, he _knew_, that damned Professor wouldn't be able to keep her safe. He just _knew_ it. Oh when he got his hands on the wretched-

Flora's eyes fluttered open and suddenly the aforementioned Professor was by her side, gently pulling her into a sitting position. Happy cheers rose up from the crowed and Bruno's own face was stretched with a relieved -_if slightly hysteric because damn it he was too old for this shit_- smile. Flora was okay, the Professor had kept her safe, she was fine and safe and, and she was _crying_.

Bruno pushed his way to the front of the crowd and the second Flora realized he was there she flung herself at him and sobbed wretchedly into his chest. Bruno looked over her head at the Professor who met his gaze with eerily blank eyes. It was unnatural to see such a bright man looking so empty and it was a stark reminder of what he had initially come her to do. He wrapped his arms gently around Flora's slim shoulders as she sobbed and made half hearted shushing noises before looking back up at the Professor.

"Listen, Layton, yer boy's alive-" at this the tall man's head shot up and a painfully bright spark of hope lit up his face. "Luke! He's okay? Where is he?" the Professor stood swiftly and spun in a circle, looking into the crowd as though Luke would be standing within the mass of people, grinning impishly up at him.

"I said he's alive, never mentioned nothing about 'im being okay. He's in a bad way Professor and we don't have a Hospital here in St Mystere. You'll have t'take him in yer car to the nearest town and hope t'god he makes it." Bruno said gruffly before gently disentangling Flora's arms from around his neck and marching off in the direction he'd left the boy.

"C'mon, he's this way." he said over his shoulder but he needn't have bothered as the Professor simply sped past him with worried, though painfully relieved, frown on his face. Bruno hissed out a curse as the man's longer legs made it almost impossible to keep up and shout out directions at the same time but he understood, time was of the essence and they would have to hurry if the boy was to make it.

[-]

Don Paolo was annoyed, no, he was _far_ more than that, he was _furious_. All of his carefully made, beautifully intricate plans had been destroyed by that stupid top hat wearing menace. When he'd first crashed into this curious little village and found out it's secret he'd been intrigued.

The robots were incredible pieces of machinery and he couldn't help but feel a little respect and jealousy for the man who'd created them. As a fellow inventor he just couldn't wait to figure out how they had been made. His mind had reeled with the possibilities, the opportunities, the _minions_!

But now everything from his helicopter to his stolen robot had been taken from him and he still was unable to get out of this damned village. He kicked a piece of rubble in irritation and listened to the rattle of the stone against the pavement. It was almost therapeutic and he gave the rock another vicious kick but this time it only clattered once before stopping.

Don Paolo scowled. Now even his _rock_ was turning against him. He waved a hand on front of his face to try disperse the fog like dust that still wallowed in the air after the tower had collapsed. He let out a sad sigh, If only Layton had stayed _inside_ the tower like he was supposed to then Don Paolo wouldn't be in this mess. But_ nooo_ the pesky fool had to go and _survive_ and destroy his brand new flying machine.

Well, it wasn't like he didn't make a spare because, really, what sort of villain would he be without a contingency plan? The smaller, less powerful machine was hidden somewhere near the tower and Don Paolo only hoped that it hadn't been destroyed when the building had come crashing down. It hadn't been one of his better ideas, stashing his spare get-away helicopter right net to the tower he was planning on knocking down, but what was done was done.

His feet took him over to where the rock had abruptly stopped and Don Paolo raised an eyebrow when he saw the stone next to a shoe. Connected to that shoe was a leg and from there the man could clearly see the battered body of that fool Layton's apprentice. He frowned and kicked the boy lightly in the leg and was rewarded with a low, watery sounding cough.

So the boy was alive then. Barely, Don Paolo amended noting the blood seeping through the boys clothes and trickling down his face from a cut on his forehead. At least someone had the decency to follow his plan and die. But did it _have_ to be the child? He felt something twist guiltily in his stomach and groaned.

It was so much easier plotting murder when you didn't have to see it happen. The boy had obviously been injured when the tower collapsed though why he was just lying here was a mystery. Why wasn't Layton tending to his apprentice? Why was the boy abandoned by the side of the street, hidden away in an alcove as if to stop him from being found?

Don Paolo looked around sneakily and strained his ears to try hear anything through the blanket of dust. He'd seen enough of the two during the past few days to know that the boy was precious to Layton. It made a beautiful kind of sense. Layton had stolen something precious from him so now he was going to return the favour.

Something sparkled in his peripheral vision and Don Paolo grinned widely to see a glint of his second flying machine. It had been hidden by the dense wall of dust but now that it was beginning to settle he could clearly see the metal outlines of the helicopter. The boy was injured and despite being rather proud of his villain status Don Paolo really didn't want to kill a defenceless, unconscious child. It was just lame and pointless seeing as the boy was probably going to die anyway.

No, he would get the boy to safety. He wondered how the child would react once he told him that his precious Professor had abandoned him and that he, Don Paolo, had saved his life. What would the boy do once he was told that he had been simply tossed away by his hero in favour of the fair Flora. It wasn't the truth of course but Don Paolo had no problem with telling a few lies to get what he wanted.

He carefully picked the boy up and walked over to the waiting machine. A slow, deadly smile spread curled his lips as he imagined the look on Layton's face when he realized that his little apprentice had been taken by his worst enemy. The sheer horror on his smug face when he realized that said enemy had turned the boy against him. Oh this was going to be simply beautiful...

**A/N:** Ahem, yes, Dan Paolo _has_ abducted Luke and, no, he will _not_ be returning him for a while. You see, Don Paolo likes minions [at least my one does] and seeing as Layton stole his pilfered robot minion he's had to make do with an almost dead Luke.

Never fear Luke will ** not** die. I know that normally a person with a punctured lung has precious little time left to live but I'm just going to pretend that Luke has super lungs and he can live much long than your average person without proper air... it's _fanfiction_ guys, cut me some slack!

I know that this chapter was mostly Bruno-centric but he kind of kidnapped my muse and held her at gunpoint so I couldn't very well write anything _except_ for him.

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

If you liked it then please **review** and, heck, if you _didn't_ like it then **review** anyway and tell me why you thought it sucked. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

- **Softie.**


	3. Disguise and Resolve

Chapter Three: Disguise and Resolve.

**By DeceptiveSoftness [ **Softie **]**

Angelina Watson had never in her entire time working as a nurse in Lestchense Hospital seen a case quite like this one. She shot the child lying on the gurrey a worried look before giving orders to some of the junior hospital staff to alert one of the doctors and prepare an operating room. No less than ten minutes ago a harried looking man had come in clutching his wounded son to his chest and shouting for help. They hadn't been able to get the story out of him yet as the poor man seemed to be in quite a state and the boys injuries needed to be treated quickly.

The small child looked like he'd been run over or something equally dreadful. At first sight it was easy to see that he'd probably shattered the bones in his right arm and that his at least one of his ribs were broken. He was covered in shallow gashes and his palms were sliced to ribbons and he also had a large cut on his forehead along with several bruises. The lad had been through something horrible and as soon as his condition was stable Angelina was going to get the full story from his 'father'.

The man hadn't explicitly stated that he was the boy's father but they looked so similar that they had to be related in some way. The man's short, well cut brown hair and wide brown eyes were mirror images of the boy's. His obvious resemblance aside the man was so concerned for the boy it was impossible to think that they weren't related in some way, an uncle or a brother if not a father

Angelina gave the boy one last worried frown as several other nurses pulled his gurrey down the hallway towards the operating theatre. He would have to get his arm and ribs treated immediately and they would have to monitor him to make sure that the blow to the head hadn't left him with any lasting trauma. It wasn't uncommon to see people with injuries such as his lapse into a coma and never wake up.

The pretty nurse shook her head and turned back to the waiting room where the boy's father/uncle/guardian was waiting impatiently. The second he spotted her he was up out of his chair and crossing the distance as swiftly as his legs would carry him. Angelina had been comforting people whose relatives were going into surgery as long as she'd been working in this Hospital and she knew it was a long and thankless task to try calm people who where half out of their mind with worry. She was going to be here a while.

**[-]**

Don Paolo scratched irritably at the cheek of his mask as he waited for the silly nurse to hurry up and tell him whether the boy would live or whether this entire excursion had just been a giant waste of his time. In the spare get-away-copter he had stashed a few disguises and luckily one of them had been that of a man that bore a passing resemblance to the boy.

He would be able to fob himself off as the boys uncle with very little trouble and had spent the past fifteen minutes since he'd arrived in the Hospital acting like a concerned, slightly hysterical man who's poor, dear nephew was going into surgery. His acting skills were brilliant and so far only that ridiculous fool Layton had been able to see through any of his disguises and even that had taken him a while.

It wasn't his acting skills that were the problem though. The problem was the sheer itchiness of the

mask he'd chosen to wear. It was made of cheaper materials than he'd usually use and it was making his skin itch terribly. The sooner he got the boy's diagnosis the sooner he would be able to leave and fix the stupid thing.

Still, all this waiting was giving him ample time to come up with a cover story. It was best to keep these things simple so as to not tie yourself up in knots with a lie so intricate that was too hard to remember. As far as the Hospital staff were going to be concerned Luke had been run over by a drunken driver who'd fled the scene as soon as he realised what he had done.

Hmm. There was another problem. The boy's name. No doubt once Layton realized that his apprentice had disappeared he'd issue a missing persons ad and contact the police and soon the entire nation would be looking for poor, lost, little Luke Triton. No, he'd have to give the boy a false name for now. Don Paolo turned several ideas over in his head as he paced in feigned nervousness up and down the length of the waiting room.

It had to be something that would be fitting for the apprentice of an evil mastermind such as himself but not something that would look amiss in ordinary society. That meant Lucifer was out as well as Vladimir and Damien and Don Paolo Junior. It had to be sufficiently evil and suave but still usable as a name in normal day-to-day situations.

He sat down heavily on one of the thinly padded chairs that were lined up against the walls of the waiting room and tapped his chin thoughtfully. It had to be unique, there was no way an apprentice of his was going to have a pitiful generic name, so things like John or Mike were out. But it also couldn't be _too_ unique or it would stand out as strange. Don Paolo sighed and narrowed his eyes at the clinical, white tiled floor.

Alexis. The name fluttered across his mind like a moth, dark and subtle. He rolled the name around his mind for a few moments before saying it out loud. It was unique but not too strange. It was short enough for the boy to remember and could be shortened further for a nickname if necessary _and_, most importantly, it was sufficiently evil sounding.

Alexis was a perfect name for a minion. It was a name that could inspire fear into the hearts of others. It was a name that could be used to charm and beguile others. It was simply _perfect_. In fact, Don Paolo was a little jealous that he hadn't come up with it _before_ now as it would have been a wonderful name for a disguise.

His head snapped up as he heard the clack of a nurses shoes on the tiles and quickly left his seat to half-walk half-run to the uniformed woman. He adopted a look of helpless worry and mild guilt as he stopped before her and wrung out his hands in a parody of nervousness.

_Damn _ but he was good.

"Um, Mr-" the nurse began, obviously hoping for him to divulge his name.

"Carlton, Stephen Carlton. What about my nephew? Is he okay? What's going to happen to him? Will he make it?" Don Paolo asked the questions in quick succession and fluttered his hands about as though he was too high strung to be still for even a second. The nurse smiled sympathetically and patted his arm in a mothering fashion.

"I'm afraid he's been through a lot but it's not untreatable. We're just going to take some x-rays and then patch up his arm and ribs. He did hit his head though so we'll have to wait and see if that will leave any lasting damage." The nurse said honestly and she went up a notch in Don Paolo's expectations.

"Will he- will he survi-" he choked out and watched with no small amount of humour as the woman's eyes widened in sympathy and she almost tripped over herself in her rush to console him. It was almost too easy to get people to believe whatever lie he'd tried to feed them. People liked to believe what they liked to believe and as long as what he said didn't challenge their own beliefs they were all too happy to go along with it.

The nurse no doubt already thought that he was a concerned relative so he'd only confirmed the truth in her eyes by claiming to be the boy's uncle. She also probably thought he'd been in a car accident. The sheer degree of damage the boy had endured left precious few options. It would take a very special kind of person to even think that he'd fallen down several floors of a collapsing tower even if it _was_ the truth. So when he said that Lu-_Alexis _had been in a hit and run accident she would have no reason to doubt it.

People liked to think that they were right so who was he to tell them otherwise?

"Nothing is certain at this point but you worrying will do your nephew no good." the nurse said sensibly though not without kindness as she led him over to a small reception and started to rifle behind the counter. She emerged a few seconds later with several sheets of paper and a battered looking pen.

"You'll have to fill in these forms I'm afraid but it shouldn't take too long. If you have any questions then just ask me. I'll be right here okay?" the nurse said in a warm voice as she pointed to a small office with large opaque windows. Don Paolo gave her a frantic look before pretending to gather his courage and nodding slowly. He looked thoughtfully down at the forms and saw they were just basic Hospital registration. Who are you? Why are you here? Do you have health insurance?

He grumbled quietly under his breath once the nurse left him and then started on the tedious task of filling in the sheets as well as coming up with a false address and phone number for his imaginary house. This minion thing was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth.

**[-]**

Angelina looked back over her shoulder at Mr Carlton and frowned. It had taken her less time than she'd expected to subdue him and she was a little but suspicious of how quickly he'd gotten over his little 'panic attack'. Normally even after she assured relatives that worrying would do their loved ones no good and that they had to stay strong for their sake the people rarely listened. They normally continued to bombard her with questions and never, ever, ever backed down after less than five minutes.

Mr Carlton certainly looked worried but he had given up asking questions so quick she wondered if he _really_ cared. Of course, it wasn't her place to guess the motives of a patients relative but his behaviour unsettled her. The brown haired nurse looked at him as he signed the forms with a look of concentration on his face. He seemed more irritated with the process than anything else though that could be contributed to the fact that his nephew was in a critical condition somewhere in the Hospital and he was stuck here signing forms.

Angelina sighed and tapped tiredly at her temples. She was probably reading too much into things. People dealt with their grief in different ways, perhaps Mr Carlton repressed his emotions instead of expressing them. No, that couldn't be right, he'd been near hysterical with worry earlier. Maybe he was beginning to calm now that his nephew was out of immediate danger. Most people thought that as long as their relative reached the Hospital they were going to be okay and that the doctors would wave their magic medical wands and heal all of their mother/daughter/father/son's injuries in a flash.

Yes, that was probably it. Angelina rubbed the back of her neck and entered her small office with a nervous laugh. She had been reading way to many mystery novels lately if she was seeing spies and villains in ordinary, honest people. She's go out and make sure that he'd signed the forms correctly and maybe get the poor man a cup of coffee when she'd finished up in here.

**[-]**

Flora sat silently next to Lady Dahlia on the richly upholstered sofa and tried not to fidget too much. It wasn't that the sofa was uncomfortable, far from it, but nervous butterflies where fluttering about in her stomach and her eyes were red raw and itchy from crying. It had barely been a few hours since the tower had collapsed and her home along with it but it felt like much longer than that. It felt as though entire months had slipped past in that short space of time and Flora was worn and weary from the emotional upheaval that she'd been through.

After all, it wasn't everyday you were the cause of someone's death.

She stifled a sob at the thought and discretely raised a shaking hand to rub fresh tears from her eyes. It seemed like she'd done nothing but cry since the tower fell. Shouldn't there be a limit to how much one could cry at a time? It seemed that she hadn't been as subtle as she thought because Lady Dahlia made a sympathetic noise at the back of her throat and gently, if somewhat awkwardly, patted Flora on the back.

It was amazing just how lifelike Bruno's creations were. It was fascinating just how they could seem to experience real emotions like humans could. Flora knew that Lady Dahlia was only responding to what her programming told her to do in times of grief but she needed someone to lean on right now, if only for a little bit. Lady Dahlias resemblance to her mother was stunning and as long as she kept quiet Flora could close her eyes and _pretend_.

She didn't open her eyes at the sound of the door opening. She could tell by the slow, sad thump of leather clad foot steps on the carpeted floor that it was the Professor and she didn't want to have to face him right now. How could she ever look at him, or anyone else for that matter, after what she'd done? She'd led that poor boy straight to his death. If it hadn't been for her then he wouldn't have been in the tower in the first place. If it hadn't been for her he wouldn't have fallen to his death. He would be alive and smiling and not dead and it was _all her fault._

Flora hiccuped and buried her face in Lady Dahlias shoulder. She even smelled like her mother, so great was the illusion, soft and powdery with a faint, floral hint of roses. She could hear the Professor sigh quietly from across the room and clenched her hands into small fists. He had done nothing but try to help her and in return she'd killed his apprentice. What sort of person was she? The sound of his footsteps drawing nearer made her flinch and squeeze her eyes shut even tighter.

"Flora, dear girl, will you look at me?" Even his voice was sad and Flora felt her heart clench at the hushed agony she could hear in his tone. That was her fault too. She had put that horrible, pained note in his voice. "Please?" he added softly and she could hear a whisper of fabric as he knelt down to meet her eyes. Flora blinked open her eyes and wiped miserably at them with the handkerchief Lady Dahlia pushed gently against her hands. She reluctantly raised her gaze to look at him and her bottom lip wobbled dangerously when she saw the tired, drawn look on his face.

There was still kindness there though and that surprised Flora. She had killed his beloved apprentice he shouldn't have a shred of kindness left for her. Perhaps she hadn't done it intentionally but the fact still remained that if Luke had never met her then he'd still be alive. She had to tell him that she was sorry but the words just wouldn't come out. There was a lump lodged in her throat and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, useless for anything but crying.

"I...I...uh-" Flora managed to choke out but was stopped by a soothing hand on her shoulder. The Professor had a knowing look on his face and Flora dreaded what he might say next. He must blame her for what happened, she knew this, but she didn't want to hear him say it out loud. To have the fact that she was the one who was responsible for all this sadness spoken out loud was almost too much to bear.

"It's not your fault, dear one." he said softly. Flora blinked in mute surprise. That hadn't been what she was expecting. She stared uncomprehendingly at the kneeling man and he let out a small, sad chuckle. "You're not to blame Flora, you know that, don't you?" he asked conversationally and Flora shook her head in instinctive denial. Of course she was to blame, it was nothing but lies to say otherwise. The Professor gave her a wan smile and patted her shoulder before leaning back. 

"Did you push Luke? Did you trip him? Did you conspire with Don Paolo to destroy your beloved home?" Flora doubted that anyone else heard the light hitch in his voice as he said the boy's name and her eyes welled again. Lady Dahlia placed a dainty hand on her back in a silent show of support before glaring down her nose at the Professor. 

"And just what, Mr Layton, does this have to do with anything? You can see the poor girl feels dreadful enough as it is." Lady Dahlias voice was sharp and clipped with barely veiled protectiveness that made Flora shrink guiltily into herself. Why should she be protected? Why should she be safe when Luke was dead? They hadn't found his body yet but considering the state Bruno said he was in it would be a miracle if he was still alive.

The Professor looked apologetically at Flora and slowly moved to get up as though it was his fault she was upset. As though he had to apologise to her for anything. As though it wasn't her who should be begging forgiveness. Flora clasped her hands on front of her and gathered her courage. There was no way she could ever live with herself after this if she let the Professor apologise to her. Letting that man make himself out to be the bad guy would be the second worst thing that she could do. The very worst thing would be letting him convince her that she wasn't to blame for Luke's death.

"I'm so, so sorry Mr Layton-" Flora began in a quiet voice only to be cut off again by a gentle hand on her shoulder. Layton looked up at Lady Dahlia for a moment before his eyes flicked back to Flora.

"I'm sorry that you think you have to apologise Flora. You are _not_ responsible for Luke's- his, uh, _disappearance_. The man who's to blame is called Don Paolo and I promise you I'll do everything in my power to bring him to justice." he swore solemnly with a faint trace of bitter resolution in his voice. It was both sad and strangely uplifting, that surety. He spoke as though it was set in stone, as though there was no other option but for Don Paolo to be caught, as though to suggest otherwise would be completely ridiculous.

It didn't escape her notice either that the man hadn't specifically said that Luke was dead. He made it sound as though Luke had simply gone missing and judging by the stubborn set of his jaw he wouldn't believe that his apprentice was truly gone until he saw the boy's body for himself. Her eyes prickled uncomfortably as she sniffed morosely and then straightened her shoulders to look him straight on.

It was her fault Luke was dead. There was no disputing that. But she was not the only person responsible and if she could help bring the man who destroyed the tower to justice then she could help set her conscience at ease. She owed to it to both Luke and the Professor to help put this to rest.

"I- I want to help catch that horrible man!" Flora declared and, judging by the sharp intake of breath and the way his eyes widened almost comically, this had been the last thing the Professor had been expecting her to say. He opened his mouth to protest but Flora stopped him with a quick, frantic shake of her head.

"Please let me help. I need to do this for- for Luke, I have to..." she trailed off and ducked her head as fresh sorrow clouded the Professors eyes. That had been a cheap trick, playing on Luke's death, but if it allowed her to stay with him and help track Don Paolo down then it was worth it. The man was quiet for a few moments and Flora knew that he wasn't really considering her offer but rather thinking of a way to turn her down that wouldn't upset her too much.

"_Please."_ Flora said beseechingly and her hands fisted the material of her skirt. "I need to do this. I want to do this. I have to-"

" No. My dear Flora it's simply too dangerous. As your new guardian I refuse to put you in such blatant danger." '_like I did Luke' _ was left unsaid and Flora swallowed audibly and nodded even though her mind was spinning. She couldn't _not_ help him. If he left her behind then she'd simply disguise herself and follow after him. She was good at disguising herself. She could do this. She _would_ do this.

**[-]**

**A/N:** Well, yeah this chapter is a bit of a fail but what's done is done. Writing a guilty Flora was harder than it seemed at first... probably because she's one of the most underdeveloped characters in the entire series. Does she even have much of a purpose outside of being kidnapped?

I realise that Don Paolo getting Luke to a Hospital that quickly is a little unrealistic but you guys are just going to have to deal with it. I stalled so much during the last chapter that poor Luke was left bleeding to death on the streets and I really didn't want to make him wait any longer for medical attention. I think I'm going to have to officially declare this story as completely as far as the next few games are concerned.

I _do_ want to follow them but all three games follow after each other in quick succession and Luke is probably going to spend quite some time in Hospital. I wont bore you all by writing out every detail of his recovery but I wont simply skip over the fact that the poor lad has broken bones and possible head trauma either. He wont just heal overnight.

Anyway, my point is that I'm going to have to make the gap between games longer so that means that Luke and Flora and Layton are going to be a few years older when it comes to battling through Pandora boxes and twisting time-travel and perhaps a few handmade mysteries that I'll throw in for funsies.

Just a warning. =)

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the new chapter.  
If you liked it then please **review** and even if you _didn't_ like it the anyway and tell my why you thought I sucked. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

x


	4. Goodbyes and Suspicions

Chapter Three: Goodbyes and Suspicions.

**By DeceptiveSoftness [ **Softie** ]**

Bruno's hands were stuffed deep into his pockets as he watched the boxy, orange car drive away from the Village. The car itself wasn't anything especially interesting, though certainly unique, but it was it's precious cargo that held Bruno's attention. He wasn't the only one who was watching the car slowly drive away from the village. He wasn't the only one watching the Professor drive Flora away from the only home she'd ever known. Everyone, from Agnes to Ramon, was standing outside the Village wall staring solemnly at the retreating vehicle.

Whenever he'd thought about this day he'd always assumed it would be a happy occasion. He always imagined his creations laughing and waving and smiling as Flora drove away to her new home, content in the knowledge that her new guardian could keep her happy. Bruno had never thought that he would feel so wretched about watching little Flora leaving the village he'd helped build from scratch forever.

He should have been happy. He should have been waving the dear girl off with a smile instead of the grimace he'd been able to muster up before she'd gotten into the car. It was impossible though, to feel happy right now, as the shadow of that poor boy's death hung over the village like a storm cloud. His creations had become quite attached to the unfortunate lad during his short stay in the village and they were saddened by the news of his death.

It puzzled Bruno more than it upset him. The boy had definitely been alive when he left him in the alcove and yet when he brought the Professor back to that spot Luke was missing and all that was left was a curious trail of blood that led to a small puddle of oil, the type found beneath cars that had been left idle for too long.

Even his jacket was gone and he'd had to scrounge up a spare from the wreckage of the Tower. The boy's body was missing and without any definitive proof of his death Bruno got the feeling that the Professor was going to search high and low until he found out the truth. This wouldn't bother him except it meant that he would end up bringing Flora along with him on any investigations. Bruno had looked after the girl long enough to know that if there was anything she'd inherited from her father it was his stubbornness in the face of the impossible. If she was determined to follow the Professor then nothing the man could say would sway her.

The rest of the villagers stood side-by-side, some crying some smiling sadly, as the car turned around a bend in the road and disappeared from view. They were truly spectacular and the knowledge that he would have his creations as his faithful companions until the day he died lit a small flame of bitter comfort beneath Bruno's ribs. They had all be individually programmed to react differently to nearly every situation so even though they were united in their worry for their young mistress they all showed it in different ways.

Andrea had a comforting arm around a crying Lucy but looked like she was fighting back amused giggles at the distraught look on everyone else's faces. That was the way Andrea was. Kind to those she cared for but sharp and cruel to everyone else. Crouton still had dish cloth clasped in his hands and he was standing next to a quietly upset Flick who was passing a battered looking chess piece from hand to hand. Pauly was expressing his sadness the only way he knew how, by getting angry and he was red faced and glaring sullenly at the spot in the road where the car had disappeared.

They were all wonderful and they were all he had left. Bruno looked down at his hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, and swallowed audibly. A few of his creations nearest to him glanced over with curious sympathy but for the most part ignored the old man standing a little away from the crowd. The very worst part about all this was that they didn't even know who he was. He couldn't walk into town and start up a conversation with any of them. He was their keeper, their creator, their father and their jailer.

And now with Flora gone he was the only living, breathing creature in a Village of robots. Bruno clenched his hands gently and looked without interest at the grit gathered beneath his nails. He would stay, of course, because if Flora ever needed a place to go it was up to Bruno to ensure that she had a home to return to. He'd promised the Baron he'd take care of his daughter and he wasn't going to stop just because she was no longer in the Village.

She hadn't taken the fortune with her, not that Bruno had ever expected her to, so she would probably return at some point in the future to reclaim it. For now she was content to let the money lie where it was but, when she was older and trying to eke out a living in a world outside of a Village catered to her every need, she would reconsider. 

Bruno adjusted his cap, straightened his coat, and melted away from the crowd with a stealth born from years of hiding in the shadows. He had a new workshop to set up, the old one had been mostly destroyed when the Tower collapsed though he had been able to salvage some of his tools the rest would have to be rebuilt from scratch. Bruno flexed his fingers and stretched them above his head with a satisfying crack. He could mope later, right now he had work to do.

**[-]**

Angelina stifled a yawn and placed a thin hand over her mouth as she blinked blearily out at the cluttered desk on front of her. She hated the night shift. It paid better than the day shift, certainly, but she missed getting a good eight hours sleep. The wards were always ghostly quiet this time of night with the occasional beep and whir of machines. The nurse stood from the plastic, fold-out chair and stretched out her hands on front of her, wincing when her knuckles cracked.

There were a few other nurses out and about this time of night but it was doubtful she'd run into them. The hospital was as large as it was understaffed and that was largely due to it's location. Angelina mused that the founder of the town must have had a twisted sense of humour when he named this place Lestchense.

Lestchense, Last Chance, last stop before endless country-side and rolling hills filled to the brim with nothing. Why someone would decided to build a town in the middle of no-where was beyond Angelina. She'd lived in Lestchense all her life. She'd been born in this very Hospital, had gone to school in the building across the town, left for a few years to attend University and then returned to the town to work. It was a quaint place and she liked it well enough but things rarely happened here.

At least until two days ago when Mr Carlton had rushed in with his dying nephew clutched to his chest. Because it was such a small, close-knit town the news that a stranger and his wounded nephew were in the Hospital had spread like wildfire throughout the entire town. The townspeople had done nothing but gossip about the poor man since he'd arrived and Angelina had to stop herself from laughing out loud at some of the more outrageous rumours. 

They ranged from a rich, unknown prince who was trying desperately to protect his nephew, who was next in line for the thrown, from evil conspirators within the royal court to a pirate lord who'd chosen to give up a life on the sea to look after his nephew after his beloved sister had died except his past had caught up to him and he was on the run from his swashbuckling rivals. By the time poor Mr Carlton and Alexis finally got out of the hospital they'd either be revered as gods fallen to earth or reviled as crime lords escaping from the law. Angelina smiled to herself at the silliness of the townspeople.

She didn't even realise where her feet had been taking her until she found herself outside Alexis Carlton's room. It wasn't rare to have so few patients that they had a large excess of rooms. Normally that would spell the end to any Hospital but Lestchense had been set up by a wealthy man and even now, decades after his death, his money continued to fund half the important buildings in the town like the Police Station and the small Fire Station.

Angelina let out a small laugh at how her feet had led her to the very boy she'd been thinking about and with a shake of her head she pushed open the door. The room was as homey as things got in a Hospital. Alexis had quickly become something of a mascot for the rest of the nurses and they'd decorated his room with childish little touches they'd either bought or brought from home. A teddy bear sat at the end of the bed, a pile of picture books were stacked on the small bedside desk and a little bowl of sweets was resting on the chair in the corner.

It livened up the room a little but what really made Angelina smile was the sight of Mr Carlton stretched out on the spare bed with the sheets half strewn across the floor and his mouth wide open and snoring softly. He had practically demanded a bed so that he could stay near his nephew and despite her initial misgivings about the man Angelina found herself warming to the dedication he showed to the small boy.

She turned her eyes away from the snoozing man and looked at his nephew. Alexis was deathly pale and purple bruises smudged beneath his eyes. His brown hair was limp against the pillow and the scar on his forehead was red raw and the stitches stood out starkly against the aggravated flesh. Beneath the blanket Angelina knew he was practically covered in bandages. His right arm was in a special cast that was elevated above the bed and his chest looked bulky beneath the sheets from the sheer amount of bandages wrapped around him. Yesterday, before she'd taken the bandage off his head, he'd looked like an Egyptian mummy.

The sight of the unconscious child awoke maternal instincts Angelina didn't know she had and she hummed a soft tune under her breath as she tucked the boy in properly and checked his IV bag. It was okay for now but she'd come back and change it in around an hour. For now they were deliberately keeping him unconscious to give his body time to adjust to the horrific accident he had been through, but it was still sad to see the lad so unresponsive. Mr Carlton seemed to take it especially hard and whenever he received an update about his nephews condition he would scowl and pace and mutter under his breath.

Angelina wished she could console him but she'd learnt very early on to never give people a false sense of hope as it just made things a thousand times more difficult if something did go wrong. All she could do was assure him that Alexis was stable for the moment and that he would just have to give him some time to recover. It was a miracle that the boy was even alive but Angelina knew that he would pull through just fine. Despite his frail appearance she had a feeling that he was a real fighter inside and that he'd work with all his might to return to full health. It would just be a matter of time.

**[-]**

Don Paolo cracked open an eye to make sure that nosy nurse had left before opening the other and sitting upright on the bed, wincing as the cheep sheets rustled and crackled beneath him. The thin, Hospital issue mattress was comfy enough but he couldn't get to sleep. He kept odd hours and rarely had a full nights sleep even when he wasn't hiding away from the law in plain sight with a kidnapped, comatose child. The dark shadows smudged beneath his eyes were a bit more prominent than usual and the fuse of his temper was swiftly fraying with every day that passed.

He had intended to get the boy treated and then fade quickly into the darkness with no-one the wiser. But it appeared that he'd underestimated just how severe the boy's injuries where. A broken arm was no trouble once it was in a sling and even his ribs would be fine if he was careful but Don Paolo hadn't counted on the head injury. It would be tantamount to murder if he spirited the boy away when he was in this state. Anything dealing with the brain was tricky business and it was better for now to keep him in the Hospital where he would receive all the help he needed.

Of course, if the police came here then he'd have no quarrel with taking the boy away, consequences be damned. Right now it cost him nothing but time to ensure that the boy-_Alexis_ regained his health but he couldn't very well get his revenge from behind the bars of a jail cell. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood silently, narrowing his eyes that the prone form of the child on the bed opposite.

There was no telling when, or even if, Alexis would wake up. For now the nurse had told him that they were keeping him unconscious using drugs to give his body a chance to heal itself but they would be taking him off those in a day or two and after that it was up to Alexis to wake himself up.

Don Paolo groaned and rubbed tiredly at his temples and scowled when his fingers met smooth plastic rather than warm flesh.

He'd managed to slip away for a few hours after he'd first checked the boy in to fix the material of his mask. It was less itchy but wearing it for any length of time was annoying, especially since it had given him a small, though incredibly irritating, rash along his cheeks and neck before he'd fixed it. Even though the new mask was better it still aggravated the rash and made wearing it insufferable.

Don Paolo stifled the urge to slip his fingers beneath the mask and scratch at the abused skin. The nurse could come back any minute and the last thing he needed was her stumbling into the room to see him with his hand shoved underneath what appeared to be his face. He padded across the room and gazed down at the boy.

If he was honest, which he rarely was even to himself, he could admit that the lad looked like a corpse and if it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of the blankets over his chest then he could easily have mistaken him for a dead child. His skin was waxy and he was unnaturally still. It was just plain _strange_ to see such an annoying, loud, obnoxious and _lively_ brat lying there looking like a sickly porcelain doll.

He ran a hand down his face and glanced out the window. It was still dark out and thanks to his disguise as a concerned young relative he couldn't exactly leave the Hospital without a word. Don Paolo shot the unconscious child a half-hearted glare and then opened the door of the room and stepped out into the corridor. He really needed to take a walk, clear his head and plan out the next part of his dastardly scheme. If one of the nurses caught him he'd be able to tell them the honest truth for once. He couldn't get to sleep so he was stretching his legs and thinking about his 'nephew'.

For all his talk about making the boy his apprentice he didn't quite know what that actually entailed. For the most part the boy seemed to be Layton's lapdog. He carried his bag, kept him company, solved puzzles for him, and praised him non-stop. While the idea of a lapdog who lavished flattery on him at every turn was appealing it wasn't exactly what Don Paolo wanted. The boy seemed bright enough when he was awake and not speaking so it was possible he could learn the intricate art of disguise. Nearly all of Don Paolo's plans would go much smoother if he had another person to count on.

Back in St Mystere was a perfect example. If he had of had an apprentice back then he could have simply ordered him to take the robot out of the Village in the spare flying machine and then Don Paolo would have had a brilliant specimen to tinker with. If he had of been able to get that robot out of that blasted Village then he could have unravelled it's secrets in mere days and got to work building his own army of robotic minions.

But he'd been alone and he had lost his stolen robot but he had managed to gain something infinitely more valuable, Layton's apprentice himself. Though what had started out as a twisted form of revenge was actually beginning to take shape and turn into something useful. He had never even considered getting an apprentice. It wasn't that he didn't want one or couldn't find one but it had genuinely never occurred to him, before now that is.

It would be easy to recruit the boy with tales of how his precious Professor had abandoned him in favour of the fair lady Flora. It would be beyond simple to twist Layton's saintly image into something worth hating to the boy. He was a child and with enough proof children believe everything. And as long as the boy hated Layton and he himself hated Layton they would be united. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that jazz.

Don Paolo chuckled evilly to himself and barely managed to stop from rubbing his hands together like a stereotypical cartoon villain. He would trick the boy, train him and then unleash him and all his misguided hatred onto the man he once hero worshipped.

**[-]**

Angelina stared wide eyed at the retreating back of Mr Carlton and shuddered lightly as he let out a small, evil laugh that echoed faintly in the dark of the corridor. There was something not right with that man. She was sure that there were a hundred logical reasons for him to awake during the middle of the night and pacing the Hospital corridors like a mad man but she couldn't think of any right now.

The dark chuckled sent small shivers of fear down her spine and she gripped her elbows tightly as she leaned back against the wall and thanked God that he hadn't seen her. She was concealed in the shadows of a nearby alcove. Behind her rested a portrait of the Hospitals founder and his pale, painted eyes stared past her to gaze disapprovingly at Mr Carlton as he turned a corner and went out of sight.

Angelina knew in her mind that he probably couldn't sleep because he was worried about his nephew. She knew in her mind that he was probably laughing out of desperation, or genuine humour over something funny he thought of. She knew in her mind that he was probably a perfectly normal man and that she had no reason to be afraid of him.

But her heart beat like the wings of a startled bird and her every instinct sang warnings to stay away from the man with the terrifying laugh. Her palms were slick with sweat and nervous butterflies kicked up a storm in her stomach. Angelina pushed off the wall with a shaking hand and then half ran, half flew back to her office.

Whatever her mind told her Angelina knew that there was something very, very wrong with Mr Carlton. Her hands tightened around the plastic arms of her chair and she stared at the chipping plaster on the ceiling. Whatever it was she was determined to find out. She couldn't in good conscience leave little Alexis with a man as strange was Mr Carlton. She would get to the bottom of this even if it killed her.

**[-]**

**A/N: **Hehehe, I know that not a lot happens in this chapter but to be honest there isn't a lot that _can_ happen at this point so I'm just focusing on developing the characters. Luke/Alexis will probably wake up in the next chapter but that means that I'm going to have to write that in a small series of time skips to make it half-way believable.

Another reason for this chapter not being as action-y as I would like is because I am completely, utterly and irrevocably terrified of writing Layton. Every time I start to write out his POV my hands get shaky, my palms get sweaty, I get all shivery and then I need to go get a calming cup of tea before I can even think about finishing off the chapter.

Initially I had a small snippet in his POV after Bruno's at the start of the chapter but I just couldn't write it. I will have to get around to writing him eventually but I am quite terrified of screwing up his character so I'll probably put it off for a few chapters yet.

On another, completely unrelated, point I've recently finished Professor Layton and the Unwound Future and let me just say that I hope Bill Hawks is kidnapped and tortured to within an inch of his life and then thrown to a pack of man eating horses. Anyone else feel they same? Feel free to PM and discuss.

Thanks a bunch for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it.  
If you liked it then please ** review** and even if you _didn't _like it please **review** anyway and tell me why you thought it sucked. =P

-Softie.


	5. Grief and Awakening

Chapter Five: Grief and Awakening.

**By DeceptiveSoftness [**_ Softie _**]**

Professor Layton stared blankly down into the cup of tea he held in his hands. It had long since grown cold and was now undrinkable but he didn't seem to notice as he gazed without interest at his face reflected in the milky liquid. He looked tired. Tired and drawn and weary, and he felt about the same. He'd been sitting down for so long that his legs were numb and his fingers seemed to be permanently moulded around the around the flesh warmed china of the teacup.

He hadn't been able to get a decent nights sleep since he'd left St Mystere because every time he closed his eyes the image of Luke's pale, terrified face flashed behind his eyelids. The shocked, frightened, accusing stare that made his heart clench and his stomach roil. Every time he closed his eyes he relived it over and over and over again. That single moment when his fingers brushed Luke's. That single damned moment when he hadn't been fast enough or strong enough or smart enough to save his apprentice.

Perhaps if he'd been a split second faster, if he'd been even a little bit quicker, then Luke would still be here. Or if he'd been wiser and made Luke run _behind_ him rather than letting him sprint ahead then he wouldn't have fell. Or if he'd been brave enough to lean further over the chasm, if he'd just covered those precious few inches and grasped his apprentice's hand then Luke would be standing next to him today.

A gentle touch on his arm made him flinch back and the cup fell from his numb fingers to shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces on the foot worn rug that covered the floor. Flora let out a surprised squeak and leapt backwards as the cold tea stared to spread along the rug, trickling between the sharp maze of shards and soaking the hem of her dress. Layton shook his head slowly as though to disperse the fog that had descended over his mind and then started to get out of the chair, wincing as his muscles protested. A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall opposite told him that he'd been sitting in the same spot for little over two hours.

"Ah, I... I'm sorry Professor, I didn't mean to startle you, it's just... you've been sitting there a long time and I was...I'm sorry." Flora mumbled and gestured helplessly to the mess at her feet. Layton tried to school his expression into something warm as he smiled at her in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Not at all my dear, it was entirely my fault. Will you go get the dustpan and brush? It's in the kitchen, I'll sweep this up." he said and frowned as his voice came out in a scratchy growl, hoarse from disuse. He cleared his throat and smiled apologetically at Flora, not liking the way her face was pinched with such blatant concern and worry. It seemed that he couldn't do anything right lately.

The Professor sighed and knelt down, carefully to avoid the china shards, and began to pick up the biggest pieces and set them to one side. Flora stood staring at him for a moment longer before turning to get the dustpan and brush. When the sound of her foot steps faded away Layton paused in his work and looked down at the scattered remains of what had once been his favourite tea cup. He'd probably never find another quite like it, it had such a lovely blue pattern on the side...

His fingers started to shake as he reached for the next piece of broken china and it was almost too predictable that his hand slipped and he scored a long, thin cut down the side of his index finger. For such a small wound it stung fiercely and blood started to drip down his hand to stain the cuff of his sleeve.

Layton was bewildered to find his eyes stinging and his breath catching in his throat. It was such a simple thing, it was just a little cup, just a little cut, and there was no use in crying over spilt tea. It was ridiculous to get so upset over something so small but, as he looked over the shattered bits and pieces of china and thought about how he'd probably never get the tea stain out of his rug, his shoulders started to shake and his hands formed tight fists over the ruined rug.

It was just one thing after another, just little reminders about how he couldn't seem to do the simplest of things without something going wrong. His cup was broken, his tea was spilt, his rug was destroyed, he'd upset Flora, he'd stained his shirt and he_ had let Luke fall. _He had let him fall, had _watched_ as he'd gotten further and further away, and had simply _stared_ blankly into that abyss as the ghastly symphony of splintering wood and twisting metal filtered back up to him.

He had stood by and _watched_ as Luke let out that heart stopping desperate yell, all the more sickening for it's briefness, he hadn't even had a chance to scream properly before he hit the ground. Flora had cried. Flora hadn't _stopped_ crying. But he'd done nothing. Hadn't cried, hadn't fought, hadn't _tried_. He'd even managed to fail at bringing Don Paolo to justice. The coward had escaped while Luke had been left to die. It was so unfair that he could almost choke on the injustice, tangible in the air he breathed, a living breathing monster curled beneath his ribs that reminded him every second of every day of his failure.

'_A gentleman must never make a scene...' _he thought absently but this was different. This sort of emotion couldn't be bound and shackled within the confines of decorum. This sort of soul-crushing _guilt_ could not be hidden behind a gentlemanly façade. It couldn't be swept out of sight or locked away. It demanded confrontation. Needed to be faced and dealt with before it built up and built up and _destroyed_ him.

He didn't even notice the cut on his hand stinging anew as silent tears dripped down to mingle with the blood. He didn't hear the door creak open before closing again with a sad thump. He didn't hear Flora's muffled crying from the other side of the door. For a while he just knelt there, staring at the broken cup and the dirtied rug and the red stain on his cuff, his shoulders heaving with soundless sobs.

**[-]**

The dust pan and brush slipped from Flora's hands and fell to the tiled floor with a soft clatter. She raised her hands to press them tightly over her mouth but they couldn't quite stifle the hiccuping squeaks that escaped through her fingers and into the hallway. She was shaking and after a few seconds her legs refused to support her. Slowly she sank to her knees and leaned her head back against the door to the Professor's office, her eyes staring sightlessly at the wall opposite.

She couldn't banish the image no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't destroy it and cut it into tiny pieces to tuck away in the farthest reaches of her mind. She couldn't _not_ see it. It was there, in her mind's eye, and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

He was kneeling next to the broken cup and his shoulders had been shaking even worse than hers were now. His hand was bleeding and his hat was crooked and he just looked so impossibly _fragile_ that Flora wanted to give him a hug but she _couldn't_ because it was her fault that he was like that. There was no way he'd appreciate her trying to cheer him up.

That was probably why he'd sent her from the room. No doubt he couldn't even stand the sight of her. He'd certainly spent enough time avoiding her since she'd moved in. She really was the worst kind of person. Not only was she responsible for the death of a person who was dear to him but she was also imposing herself onto him.

How horrible it must be to be forced to live with your apprentice's murderer.

Flora didn't even bother to blink back the tears that ran down her cheeks and over her hands. She just rested her head against her knees and cried into the tea stained fabric of her dress and pretended not to notice the echoing sobs from the room behind her.

**[-]**

Angelina frowned at Mr Carlton over his nephew's bed and forced herself to count to ten before she opened her mouth. The furious, questioning behaviour she'd expected at the start was finally showing it's ugly head and she found herself wishing she'd enjoyed the peace while it had lasted.

She narrowed her eyes at Mr Carlton as he started to speak again, his tone was irritable and vaguely condescending and it made Angelina want to hit him. Only years worth of training and a temper fuse a mile long kept her from reaching out and smacking him across his smug face.

"Don't make that face at me _girl_! Why is he not awake yet? You took him off that damned medication and yet he's still fast asleep. I want to bring him home!" he snarled with the faintest hint of a whine in his voice. Angelina pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply. He'd been making subtle and not-so-subtle jabs at her gender, her appearance and her efficiency since he'd woken up this morning and she was swiftly running out of patience.

"Mr Carlton, _please_ try to understand that your nephew has been through a terrible ordeal and he needs to wake up in his own time. Trying to force him could end up making him _worse_." Angelina said through gritted teeth and Mr Carlton's lips pulled taunt in a disapproving frown. 

"Don't talk to me like that girl! I know he has to recover, what I _don't_ understand is why it's taking so damned long! If you were doing your job then I'd be able to take Alexis home, where he belongs!" He spat back at her and Angelina felt her fingernails digging sharply into her palms. She'd never even noticed that her hands had clenched into fists. Just another reason to dislike the man on front of her. Angelina prided herself on never losing her temper but Mr Carlton was stamping on her every nerve. She'd never met a man so disagreeable in her entire life.

"It's taking so long because Alexis was run over by a _car, _Mr Carlton. He received serious wounds and, to be frank, it's a miracle he's even alive. It's only been a week since the accident and sometimes these things can take _months_. Have a little bit of patience, for Alexis sake. The last thing he needs right now is for you to be out of your mind with worry." Angelina stressed in what she hoped was a soothing voice though, judging by the way his eyes narrowed, she hadn't entirely succeeded in keeping the contempt out of her tone. 

It was becoming increasingly hard to be nice to Mr Carlton. Ever since she'd seen him that night in the corridor it was like her eyes had been opened and she found herself noticing more little quirks and discrepancies in his behaviour that could no longer be explained away as a man worried for his remaining family. He was sarcastic and rude at the best of times and downright insulting at the worst.

He'd say he was concerned about his nephew in a voice about as kind as a box of razors. Getting him to say thank you was like pulling teeth and he stalked the Hospital corridors at night like a vampire searching for prey. When push came to shove Angelina trusted this man just about as far as she could throw him.

Mr Carlton opened his mouth to snap at her but a low groan interrupted him and both of their heads snapped down to look at the boy lying on the bed between them. Bleary brown eyes, half closed and gummed together with sleep, blinked up at them. The child exhaled in a weary rattle and shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his fingers scrabbling gently against the soft material of the bed sheets.

"Nghraah..." he croaked and coughed weakly. His eyes roved sightlessly around the room before resting on Angelina who smiled back at him.

"Hello Alexis, it's nice to have you back in the world of the living." she chirped, her mood taking an abrupt U-turn from her earlier ire. The boy blinked back at her and coughed again but otherwise didn't answer. But that was okay, she didn't expect him to be able to hold a conversation immediately after spending so long in a drug induced coma. The nurse moved quickly but deliberately, letting Alexis see what she was doing as she sat in the visitor's chair next to his bed and retrieved a small clipboard and pen from his bedside locker.

"Hey sweetie, I'm just going to ask you a few questions okay?" she asked, her tone sugar sweet. She ignored Mr Carlton as he made retching noises in the background. She tried to keep her lips curved up into a smile even as her thoughts turned murderous and she levelled the man with a burning glare.

"I would have thought you'd be relieve to see you nephew awake, Mr Carlton." she murmured and repressed a grin when he winced and stopped pretending to gag. He looked at her with something akin to petulance before staring intently at Alexis, his brows drawn together in a worried frown. He didn't try to get any closer and Angelina realised for the first time just how uncomfortable he looked with his arms clasped behind his back and his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

Usually she would have just assumed he was worried for his nephew and left it at that but now there was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind as she watched the man shift his weight from one foot to the other. His stare was intense as he looked down at the boy on the bed and he seemed to be... waiting for something to happen. A few seconds passed in silence as Alexis just blinked slowly up at his uncle who seemed surprised at the lack of recognition. Angela winced a at the unwanted feeling of sympathy that uncurled in her gut as the young boy didn't seem to recognise his uncle at all. Oh that _poor_ man...

Guilt lanced through her as she thought about all his behaviour up until now, his irritability, the way he never slept and rarely left Alexis' room. What she had initially thought of as extremely suspicious behaviour now just looked like fear for the boy lying on the bed. He had probably been out of his mind with worry and she'd been so _sharp_ with him. Angelina swallowed the rising feeling of shame that lodged in her throat and turned back to Alexis with another cheerful smile.

"Can you tell me your name?" she asked and her smile dimmed a bit when he did nothing but stare blankly at her. She tried asking a few more questions, simple things like his age, his family, where he lived, but he was unable to answer any of them and Angelina was finding herself to be unnerved by the sheer emptiness in his eyes.

"Hmm, can you squeeze my hand please?" she asked as she gently placed her hand next to his on the bed sheets. She fought the urge to whoop out loud when his fingers twitched across the sheets and softly squeezed her hand, there was no strength to it but at least it showed that he could understand her. Angelina gave him an encouraging grin and patted his hand.

"Well done sweetie. Now would you mind taking a deep breath for me? Ah, good boy!" Angelina praised as Alexis inhaled a shuddering breath, his eyes fixed unerringly on her hand, still loosely clasped in his. He was able to follow simple commands which meant that he understood her which was great but he didn't seem to be able to answer basic questions about himself, which was not so great.

"Can you sit up?" she asked and watched as he tried to pull himself upright, winced and then shook his head sluggishly from side to side. Mr Carlton took a step forward and then moved back again. He was obviously unwilling to get in the nurse's way but also seemed to want to stay close to his nephew.

"M'izzy..." he said, his lips moving clumsily to form the words but Angelina caught on to what he was saying and reached out her other arm to steady him with a rueful smile.

"That's fine Alexis, you're bound to be a bit dizzy for a while. You see that little tube connected to your arm? Yeah that's the one, that's supplying you with special painkillers to make you feel better but it'll make you feel a bit odd. Okay?" Angelina explained as she stood and gently tugged her hand out from under his. She smiled reassuringly at him as she pulled out her pen light from her pocket and clicked it on.

"Hey, sweetie, I just want you to follow this light with your eyes, can you do that?"

She watched with mild trepidation as he slowly traced the light's path, too slow to be completely healthy, and nodded to herself. She hid her wince as he coughed again, dry and painful, and stood. Angelina pointed towards Stephan and graced Alexis with her sweetest smile.

"Look Alexis, your Uncle's here. I'm just going to pop out to get you something to drink to help ease that cough but I'll be back in a flash. You two play nice." she said as she exited the room. The last few words were directed at Mr Carlton and she could have sworn she heard him mutter "Meddling girl." under his breath as she left. For Alexis' sake she refrained from marching right back in there and giving him a piece of her mind. Barely. 

**[-]**

He felt dizzy, unbearably so. Every time he so much as tilted his head the room preformed an unsteady waltz and he had to fight down the bile that rose in his throat. He felt weak too, he could barely make his fingers move and he had to wrestle with his eyes to keep them open. His head hurt, his arm hurt and, most of all, his chest hurt. Everything ached and he desperately wanted to slip back into the comfortable oblivion that had kept the pain at bay but something stopped him.

If he went back into the nothingness would he wake up again?

Fear, thick and cloying, made his heart beat painfully faster. He couldn't recognise anything. How much time had passed since... since he'd last fallen asleep. How much time had he lost? He fought with his exhaustion as he looked warily over at the only other person in the room. The pretty woman with the motherly face, the nurse, had left and now it was only him and the man. The man walked forward and his shoes clacked sharply against the tiled floor, strong steps, he noted idly. The steps seemed almost _too_ strong for the slender, unimpressive man at the foot of the bed.

"Hello... Alexis, how are you, uh, feeling?" the man asked awkwardly. He didn't know what to say. How was he feeling? He didn't know. He didn't know what was going on, where he was or, or even _who_ he was. The realisation was startling and he dropped his eyes to stare at his hand, the only one he could move without pain lancing up and down his arm, it was small and pale with pink scars littering the palm, in shock.

Alexis? Was that who he was? The name didn't seem right but it was all he had to go on. He tried to flex his fingers but could barely manage to make them twitch before a wave of exhaustion washed over him. His entire body felt out of sorts, like he had been shaken apart and put back together with everything in the wrong place.

"Alexis, don't you remember me? It's your old uncle. Stephen." the man said nervously, his hands twitching at his sides. He desperately tried to think back, searching for something, anything, that would let him know what was going on. He stared blankly up at the man, Jerry, but refrained from shaking his head as even the smallest of motions made him feel sick.

"Y-you don't, uh, remember me?" Stephen tried again, his eyes were wide and almost pleading, and he felt really bad about not being able to answer. He coughed again, pain shooting sparks up and down his chest, and felt his stomach roil in protest. He groaned and suddenly leaned over the side of the cot and emptied the contents of his stomach on the squeaky clean linoleum floor. Stephen let out a moue of disgust as vomit splattered uncomfortably near his shoes and leapt backwards with a speed that was belied by his slight appearance.

Once he'd thrown up his stomach seemed to settle a little and he felt eyes growing heavy. He could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, dragging his eyes down and numbing his tongue. The last thing he saw was the hospital room distorting as though it was underwater and then he let the weariness take him.

**[-]**

All in all Alexis woke up twice again that day, the second time his lucidity had been as brief as the first but the third time he'd managed to stay coherent and awake for an hour before he'd slipped back into a restless slumber. During that hour Angela had discovered something truly awful that, even now, made her eyes feel tight and itchy with unshed tears. That poor boy...

It had been almost painfully obvious after talking to him and getting him to preform some simple exercises that something was wrong with Alexis. Oh he knew how to do what she was asking without much trouble and actually seemed like quite the intelligent young lad but he failed to recall even the most basic things about himself. There was no doubt in Angela's mind that there was a smart brain behind that cute little face but he was still unable to remember things like his home or his friends or even his own name.

In a small way it was a blessing, no child should have to remember being the victim in such a horrific accident, but it was mostly tragic. Such a bright, beautiful boy and he'd forgotten everything. He didn't remember a single thing about himself and it showed in everything he did. He had no preferences, whether it be food or books of toys or animals. He _did_ have a favourite colour though, it was blue, but this was only after he'd expressed a wish for new clothes, rather than the hospital issue trousers and shirt he'd been given upon arrival.

Mr Carlton had immediately gone out into town and had come back with a set of simple blue pyjamas and some plain blue shirts and dark shorts and other clothing necessities. They were the first clothes he remembered owning and now he wanted everything blue to match, his bed sheets, his socks and even his underwear. Mr Carlton just had given the boy a scathing look and told him in no uncertain terms that he would _not_ be purchasing a whole new wardrobe when there was a perfectly good set of clothes waiting for him at home.

In hindsight it seemed a little odd that the man hadn't already gone to retrieve some personal effects from his house, or at the very least had someone he knew bring them up to him. But no, he'd been more or less wearing the same ensemble for the entirety of the two weeks, occasionally swapping his clothes for hospital scrubs when they were being laundered at the shop down the road. She dragged her mind away from that train of thought, it was none of her business why Mr Carlton hadn't brought a change of clothes with him, or why no-one had dropped in to say hello to the man or his nephew. Perhaps he just didn't have many friends in his town, it wouldn't surprise her given how nasty the man could be at times.

She didn't dwell on it though, if she tried to think through everything Mr Carlton did or said she would just end up annoyed, with no answers, and a migraine bigger than the one she was current;y nursing as she fluffed the pillows on Alexis' bed. He was up right now, down in a different wing of the hospital with a doctor doing some basic physiotherapy exercises. He would be well enough to leave soon and the thought brought mingled feelings of sadness and relief. Sadness because she'd gotten quite used to having Alexis around, even in his unconscious state he'd lent a flare of brightness to the dreary hospital, and relief because with him would go his uncle and Angelina could stop glancing over he shoulders during her shifts, positive that he was lurking somewhere behind.

Angelina shook her head to get rid of her morbid thoughts and ran a tired hand through her once neat hair, long hours and apathy had turned the smart bun into a tangle of knots and fly-away strands that didn't look even remotely professional, no wonder Mr Carlton was having trouble taking her seriously. She wanted to get her work done quickly so she could finish early. Daniel Roberts, one of the newest members to Lestchense's police force, had asked her out for a meal last week and she'd decided to take him up on his offer. Daniel was a bit of a gossip but he meant well and had the cutest blue eyes Angelina had ever seen and she was really looking forward to their date.

She smoothed down her shirt and smiled. to herself as she worked. There was nothing quite like an impending dinner with a hot guy to life your spirits

**[-]**

Daniel Roberts nervously wiped his hands on the leg of his trousers as he waited for his date to arrive. He couldn't quite believe that she'd said yes; Angelina Watson was, by reputation, a workaholic with a stubborn streak a mile wide so Daniel had been happily surprised when she'd agreed to meet him at Lestchense's one and only decent restaurant 'Gold-Zone' without any fuss.

Angelina wasn't the prettiest girl in town but she _was_ one of the sweetest and her laugh could melt the Antarctic and Daniel fully admitted that he'd had a crush on her for the best part of their acquaintance. Ever since she'd returned to Lestchense after going to University with all that city-girl savvy and a lilt to her accent if he was honest with himself.

So here he was waiting. He'd gone over things a little awkwardly in his head, conversation topics and compliments and the like, but he just knew that as soon as she breezed through the doors, all wild brown hair and laughing eyes, that he was going to make a complete and utter fool of himself. He wiped his hands again and darted his eyes around the half-empty restaurant. How would he greet her? With a hug? A kiss? He felt his face warming and averted his eyes down to the tablecloth. A handshake felt to formal and his palms were really, really clammy. He didn't want her to think he was a giant loser.

The bell above the door jingled and Daniel jumped in his seat. He raised his eyes to see Angelina making her way towards him. She was wearing a flattering sleeveless blue dress that cut off just above her knees. Daniel swallowed hard and rose to greet her. 'Hug? Kiss? Handshake?' became his mantra as she approached and all too soon she was standing next to him, a slightly concerned expression on her face.

"Ah, hello Angelina. You look nice... uh, good! Really good...great, I mean!" He operated on autopilot and stuck out his hand hastily, knocking over his glass of water in the process. He met Angelina's startled eyes over the elaborate table centrepiece and felt an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

"_Shit_." he hiss eloquently and then froze. "Ah! I mean, crap... I mean...damn.. I mean... well _shit_." he babbled as he quickly righted the glass and attempted to mop up the spill with the side of the tablecloth. Peels of laughter rang out around the restaurant and Daniel paused to see Angelina doubled over and leaning against her chair for support, tears of mirth spilling from her eyes and smudging her mascara.

"Oh G_od_ Daniel. You are and absolute riot, I don't think I've laughed this much in weeks." she gasped after a few minutes, still chuckling weakly. Daniel grinned. " I live to please." he hummed with a waggle of his eyebrows and Angelina whacked him gently on his arm as the waitress finally felt brave enough to approach the table and take their order.

The rest of the date was surprisingly good. They talked about everything and anything and eventually the subject of conversation turned to work. Daniel sipped his wine as he contemplated telling her about the strange telegraph the Police Station had received earlier that day. Nasty business, apparently some poor kid had been kidnapped by a mad-man. His guardian had sent out a message and description to every police station in the country in the hopes that someone would be able to recognise and help return the lad.

The whole situation didn't sit well with Daniel, he had a younger brother himself and he didn't even want to imagine what he'd feel like if someone took him away. His risotto turned uncomfortably in his stomach and something must have shown on his face because Angelina reached out to place a reassuring hand over his.

"What's wrong Daniel, you went all quiet there for a moment " she murmured worriedly and Daniel huffed out a breath as he considered telling her. A general message would be sent out to the public during the week anyway so it wasn't like he'd be breaking any rules by letting her know, but then again kidnapping wasn't a general first-date topic of conversation. In the end he could resist neither the pleading expression on her face nor the urge to blab that had always been his own weakness.

"It's nothing 'Lina, I was just thinking about this message we received earlier on at the Station. Some kid got kidnapped by a loony roughly two weeks ago and they want us all on the look-out" he explained and Angelina's face turned from curious to horrified. "Oh that's awful! What's his name?" she asked and then paused. "Oh dear, are you sure you're able to tell me? It's not confidential?"

Daniel shrugged, letting none of the importance those words instilled in him show, and shook his head. "No 'Lina, everyone's going to be told soon enough so it's no harm letting you know a little early. The lad's name is Luke Triton, he's about ten with brown hair and brown eyes. Supposedly suffering from quite a few injuries according the report. Last time he was seen he was reported to have multiple lacerations on his hands, a broken arm, injured ribs and a deep cut on his head... 'Lina? 'Lina! Angelina what's wrong?" He asked worriedly as she'd gone as pale as the napkin crushed in her hand.

Perhaps he shouldn't have given a description of Triton's injuries, woman were supposed to get squeamish about things like that weren't they? But Angelina was a nurse, she should be used to blood and gore, so he couldn't see what the problem was.

"Hey, 'Lina-" he began only to be cut off as Angelina shoved a handful of bills on the table and jumped to her feet.

"I've got to go. Sorry Daniel, dinner has been positively lovely but I just remembered I need to do something. Bye." she said as she struggled into her jacket and was out the door before Daniel had the chance to say another word.

A few of the other patrons gave him sympathetic glances and murmurs of 'Ooh, bad date?' and 'Poor bloke, getting jilted like that' began to fill the air. Daniel ignored them, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Angelina's figure practically race down the street and out of sight. Coming to a decision he fished a handful of notes out of his wallet, probably more than was needed, and left them in a pile along with the money Angelina had left before running after her.

Something was wrong, he may have only spent about an hour in her company but he already knew Angelina wasn't the sort of woman to just run out on a date, and he was determined to find out what that was. 

**[-]**

**A/N: **I know this update has been a ridiculously long time coming and I am really, really, sorry about that. My laptop caught a virus and completely erased the work I'd initially had for this chapter along with my plot notes, ideas, and general outline. In layman's terms my work went up in smoke and I was more than a little bit reluctant to restart the whole thing again from scratch.

I know a large part of this chapter was OC-centric but they wont be around for much longer so those of you who hate Original Characters with a fiery passion don't need to worry. I just needed them to advance this part of the plot now that Luke is awake. I'm sure you guys can guess what's going to come next, eh?

And HURRAH! I finally gave Layton's POV a chance. I still feel that I screwed him up but hopefully this will make it easier to write about him in the future.

A big '**Thank You'** has to go out to a few people who especially made this chapter's revival possible. Bizzy who practically talked me through the 'Layton' scene and gave me a bunch of wonderful suggestions on how to improve it along with her medical expertise which has been a huge help during this story arc. Wavebreeze who straightened out my grammar and encouraged me to think about the reader while writing and Ali-dunno with whom I had amazing fun ironing out characterization and puzzling out how to continue on until the Unwound Future.

And also, _of course_, to each and every single person who took the time to review. Be it with kind words, encouragement or criticism I really do appreciate it. Without you guys I think I would have just abandoned the story, so thank you.

As with all the previous chapters this update is un-Beta'd so if you spot any mistakes, be they grammatical or otherwise, let me know and I'll fix it as soon as I can.

_Softie.


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